Beautiful ties and dandelion lies

I take to the streets,

I am a flanneur and dressed that way,

The ladies in their petty coats skip along the cobbels baring their heels to gentlemen in waistcoats smoking cigars,

Whom shoot this autumnal breeze with curt words of labour and love

A lady sits outside a Parisian cafe holding a cigarette between her fingers and rolling it back and forth causing wisps of smoke to spiral

She is demure and she shrugs off every eye that captures her gaze

She nonchantley reads the municipal gazette

As a tornado kicks up a fervent storm around her

The dandies down on the tiles have their boys waiting

For much like the Greeks there is no relationship more beautiful than that which exists between two men

They know this but don't understand it

And achieve only impotence in their endeavours

Much like to he wretched longing in their loins

A carriage rolls by

Carving a trail through the sludge and filth that makes up this road

A wrist suddenly appears at the window and a white feathered handkerchief is dropped as the carriage rolls in through the fish market

And the beauty that sits in the carriage fades and withers as the carriage drags her through a life like a fickle fashion

Oh that fashion is so fickle and so ugly

That it must be changed every month to save the mirrors from cracking

Oh and if love were not so fickle

Then why are divorce, cuckoldry and betrayal so rife

If something was ever cherished in this life

Then surely it should be love?

For my love is more love than most

And my fickle fancy more changing than most

But I will love you more than most

even if you change

For my love is bigger than your my I've

Remember this and sleep well